Page 56

“It means he’s memorized one buzz phrase.”

“Why do you always find a reason not to try, Sloane?”

Even from halfway across the world, my mother found a way to make my reluctance around speaking to a married stranger evidence of personal failure.

“I’m working,” I said.

“On a Sunday?”

“Clients don’t care what day it is.”

“Well, perhaps you need better clients.”

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

She began explaining how successful people attracted successful people. I listened until the words lost meaning, then ended the call by claiming another client was trying to reach me. That became true eleven minutes later. A customer emailed to say the revised design had moved too far from the first version, despite having requested the exact changes in writing.

I closed my laptop.

My cousin, Missy, had texted me twice that week. I hadn’t read the messages, but I’d seen enough of each preview to know she was asking whether I wanted to come over for a visit.

Her name made guilt gather behind my ribs.

I didn’t open her messages. Instead, I opened THE PACK. More people had responded to the reunion invitation.

Grandma Ruth: IF ANYONE IS WAITING FOR A PERSONAL INVITATION, THIS IS IT. COME HOME.

The words caught somewhere inside me.

Home.

It wasn’t my home. They weren’t my people. They didn’t even know my real identity.

I knew all of that.

I also knew I had spent years waiting to feel prepared enough to enter my own life. I waited to call Missy until I knew what to say. I waited to apply for better jobs until I thought my portfolio was perfect. I waited to make friends until I had more money, more energy, better clothes, a less embarrassing apartment, and a personality that didn’t require advance preparation.

Waiting had produced nothing except a great deal of time alone.

Going to the reunion would be reckless. Possibly dangerous. Definitely dishonest. It would also place me in the same room as Hudson.

My fingers moved before the responsible part of my brain completed its objection.

I clicked on the link and opened the RSVP form.

Name?

Sloane

Will you attend?

I selected yes.

Address?

Why the hell would they need my address?

I tried skipping the question, but it was a required field. I briefly considered putting a fake address but decided not to just in case they tried to track me down and found an old man living at the listed address. That would surely give me away.